


Not the Regular Delivery Guy

by Shoshanna Gold (shoshannagold)



Category: Generation Kill
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-06-24
Updated: 2009-06-24
Packaged: 2017-10-06 14:34:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,534
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/54727
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shoshannagold/pseuds/Shoshanna%20Gold
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nate had long ago resolved that he'd always have his Marines' six. Sometimes, though, it was equally his – and only his – job to fuck with them. He was willing to cede some of that ground to Anna Colbert, though, given how well she played her son.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Not the Regular Delivery Guy

**Author's Note:**

> This is a work of fiction based on characters in the HBO miniseries.

They'd just finished showering when the doorbell rang. Nate looked at Brad, who was at the sink, face still mostly covered with shaving cream. "I've got it," he said, dropping his towel and going into the bedroom for his sweats.

"There's some money in the drawer in that table by the door. Make sure they didn't forget the potstickers this time."

Nate nodded, grabbing his own wallet, hopefully without Brad seeing him do it.

He'd forgotten that Brad had eyes in the back of his head. Damn recon training. "I'm trying to get you accustomed to being kept in a certain style so that you'll provide me with favors on demand. Stop thwarting my efforts to turn you into my sex slave, use the money in the table!" he called out from the bathroom as Nate went down the hall to the door.

"If you really want me to service you, you're going to have to spring for more than some BBQ pork," he said, heading for the door as Brad cracked a filthy comment about porking Nate. He was still laughing when he opened the door. "How much do I owe you?"

"Well, I'd say at least a hug, wouldn't you?"

Nate's split-second reflexes saved him from gaping at Brad's mother, but just barely. "Mrs. Colbert, hello!"

"Nate, am I really going to have to tell you to call me Anna every time I see you?"

He grinned at her, having regained his composure. He'd been dealing with the mothers of the people he was dating since the first time he'd taken Alicia McNab to the movies in the seventh grade, and though none of them had been quite like Anna Colbert, he was pretty sure the same tactics would play here. "Just trying to show my respect, ma'am," he said. "Please, come in."

She shook her head as she stepped into the house. "I'll say one thing about the Marine Corps, it certainly teaches you boys to pile on the bullshit with a shovel when you're in a tight spot."

It had also taught him that sometimes the best response was no response at all, so he just smiled at her. "I'm sorry, we weren't expecting you," he said instead, following her into the kitchen, where she put the take-out bags on the counter. He was totally slipping; he'd only now noticed she had them.

"I know. Brad hates it when I drop in without calling first, but I was in town unexpectedly – some clients had a crisis – and I thought it would be nice to see you both before tomorrow night. There's just never any chance to talk properly when the whole family gets together. I hope I didn't interrupt you in the middle of something." Mrs. Colbert – Anna – smirked at him.

Nate blinked. Brad had neglected to tell him there was a family dinner tomorrow night. Moreover, Brad had neglected to tell him that his mother knew about them, which she clearly did, based on her knowing look. Or maybe she was kidding, just giving him a hard time about answering the door half-clothed in the middle of the day.

"We just came back in from a run," he said firmly. "Brad's just getting out of the shower."

Her smile just grew. "How very energetic of you," she said. "I'm usually dead on my feet after taking the red eye, but as my son reminds me frequently, you Recon Marines are a breed apart."

She knew _and_ she was fucking with him. How very Colbert-like of her.

"Nate, what's taking so long? Did they forget the potstickers?" Brad wandered into the kitchen, still clad only in a towel. Nate fought the instinct to close his eyes and say a quick prayer. Not only did he need no further proof that there wasn't a god, it struck him as a bad idea to let down his defenses in a room full of Colberts.

"Moonlighting as a delivery driver, Mother?" Brad asked lightly, going over to where the bags were sitting on the counter. "I know the economy's not what it used to be, but I didn't get the impression things were going that badly for accountants, especially not highly trained specialists such as you."

"I ran into the delivery boy at the door and decided to treat my favourite son to a late lunch. Or is it an early dinner? I must say that it's just like you to make guests do callisthenics before feeding them." Brad raised an eyebrow at Anna, and she smiled, the same sunny smile that Brad had when he was screwing with people. "Nate said you just got back from a run."

Brad flicked a look in Nate's direction. _That's the best you could do?_ Nate shrugged. He could have done worse, given that he'd had no advance warning and was going on about two hours of sleep, not to mention some significant post-orgasm brain death.

"Nate's not a guest," said Brad. "And he's used to me running him ragged. We can't let him go soft now that he's a civilian, can we?"

Wait a minute. When had this become about him? And, Christ, Brad hadn't even tried to deflect his mother's innuendo. In fact, he'd pretty much confirmed whatever she thought.

"I did check to make sure the potstickers were there, before I paid for it. I only need to hear that particular diatribe once, thank you."

"As opposed to some of the others, which have not managed to sink in over many, many years," said Brad, his tone displeased. "Like the one where I ask you to let me know if you're coming by. I do believe we've had that conversation repeatedly, as a matter of fact, and quite recently."

"This is going to be hard for you to understand, Bradley, but your word is not law." _Bradley_. Nate had never once dreamed of calling him that, not even when Brad had pushed him to the very end of his rope in Iraq. Then again, he'd fallen back on 'Sergeant Colbert' a couple of times, when tested. Come to think of it, he still did that.

"If I feel like stopping in on my son and his boyfriend, I will. There are months on end when I don't get to see you, because you're God knows where, under conditions so dangerous that I can't sleep for thinking about them. So I find it very reassuring to stop by and see you here, in one piece. But if it's a bad time, you can just tell me to leave, and I'll go."

_Boyfriend?_ Except he didn't even have time to think about that, because a full-fledged family drama was unfolding in front of him and he wasn't sure if he should take cover or try to salvage the situation.

But Brad was grinning at his mother. "God, you're such a piece of work," he said, crossing the room to toss an arm around her shoulder and kiss the top of her head. "I thought for a minute you were going to start on about dark and distant lands, use your 'there be dragons there,' speech. You might want to tone it down, though: Nate's probably not ready for the all-out Jewish mom shtick. He's from the east coast. Very buttoned-down and reserved family."

Well, no, they had their moments, too. Except this hadn't been a moment, apparently, it had just been Brad and his mom doing their thing. It was scary that despite a lack of shared genetic history, Brad actually inherited his ability to be the biggest drama queen in a battalion full of Marines who had perfected the art of bitching. And there was an entire family of them? Nate blinked. "I need a drink," he said. Or ten.

"See, I told you. Such a fucking WASP."

"Except for the Catholic thing." Nate pointed out mildly.

"Please. You haven't been in a church since you were a minor. If the Church knew about you and your heathen sins, you'd have been excommunicated ten times over by now."

"I'd love a drink," said Anna, clearly ignoring Brad as she smiled at Nate. "Wonderful idea. This is why they put you in charge. You two go put on some clothes and I'll make drinks and put out the food. You're going to scare the neighbors, walking about like that." She pushed lightly at Brad. "He's such an exhibitionist, Nate, but you probably know that. He refused to wear clothes properly until he started school. I have entire albums full of naked baby pictures."

Endless ammunition. He grinned at her. "I trust you'll show them to me tomorrow night."

"And that's enough of that particular conversation," said Brad, glaring at his mother, who remained completely unphased. "Come along, Nathaniel, we have our orders."

Anna smiled at Nate as Brad tugged on his arm, pulling him out of the kitchen. "Gin and tonic, right, Nate?"

"Christ, yes," said Brad. "Use the big glasses, Mom. Less tonic, more gin. And you should think about the fact that you've already driven Nate to drink."

"He's part of the family," Anna called out after them. "Why should he escape unscathed?"


End file.
